


Home Sweet Home

by LeighKelly



Series: NYU!verse [4]
Category: Glee
Genre: F/F, Post-Canon, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-15
Updated: 2015-09-15
Packaged: 2018-04-20 22:41:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4804859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeighKelly/pseuds/LeighKelly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Before the start of classes, Brittany and Santana move into their first apartment in New York City.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Home Sweet Home

Neither Brittany nor Santana can believe the day has finally arrived. Before they’d even been married, they’d both submitted their applications to NYU, Columbia, and, just in case neither of those options worked out (Santana was more concerned for her, than for Brittany, though she’d done well in high school, and made excelled grades in her one semester in Louisville) to Brooklyn College, and when they’d returned from their long honeymoon in the Bahamas, they found six acceptance letters waiting for them at Brittany’s parents’ house. They’d spent quite a bit of time weighing the merits of each, but eventually, looking at financial aid options, considering the  _huge_ stipend, one that would cover most of their living expenses, that NYU had offered Brittany, in effort to get a mind like hers on their team, the choice was fairly simple. Santana would be able to work on an individualized education plan, Brittany would be able to use her math brain to save the world, and they would be in New York together, the dream that seemed a long time coming _finally_  happening.  
  
Because neither of them had much in the way of personal belongings, clothing and shoes not withstanding, packing up for their first real home together was fairly simple. They’d shipped a few of their wedding gifts, figuring they’d get the rest the next time they returned to Lima, packed their suitcases, spent hours upon hours choosing their furniture and ordering it for delivery, and after kissing their families goodbye, got on a plane bound for New York, just the two of them and their two fat cats in carriers beneath their seats. Of course, as they both come to realize, after their initial giddiness at Brittany scooping Santana into her arms and carrying her over the threshold, and possibly having a quickie up against the kitchen counter, because it was their home and they  _could_  has faded, even with very little to unpack, moving is beyond stressful.  
  
“Brittany!” Santana calls out from the bedroom, after lying her clothes on the bare bed and coming to a terrifying realization at 6:45 at night. “Can you come in here? We’re having a crisis!”  
  
“Yeah, baby?” Brittany appears in the doorway, wearing only cutoff shorts and her bra, six forks in her hand, making Santana smile in spite of herself.  
  
“We didn’t order bedding. We have a brand new bed, a brand new mattress, and no sheets to sleep on. Seriously did we order anything?” She groans, the ever growing list of crap they need to buy making her feel like she’s going to explode.  
  
“We also don’t have glasses, besides the ones from our wedding…I went to offer the furniture guys something to drink, and I couldn’t. I think we didn’t realize how much we registered for that we didn’t actually get.”  
  
“Shit. Britt can we please just go to the store now?” Santana rubs her temples, feeling an impending headache, spurred on by the chaos around her. “I know I said an hour ago that I wanted to make some progress unpacking first, but I’m sweating my ass off and I’m starting to freak out.”  
  
“Yeah, please, let’s. It’s ninety-eight degrees in this apartment, and I’m just about out of clothes to take off. And maybe we should eat, I’m starving, and you get grouchy when you’re hungry.”  
  
“I don’t-” Santana started, then thought better of it. “You’re right. I could use a drink too, unpacking is actually the worst.”  
  
“I can think of twenty things off the top of my head that are probably worse than unpacking, but, I agree, baby, it does suck. Let me just put on a shirt and we’ll go to your favorite store.”  
  
“Bed, Bath and Beyond is  _not_  my favorite store.” She rolls her eyes.  
  
“Coulda fooled me.” Brittany teases, grabbing a tank top from the floor and pulling it over her head. “You thanked my grandma for that gift card for like an hour on the phone.”  
  
“Britt, your grandmother gave us a thousand dollar gift card for our wedding. She could’ve given us a thousand dollar gift card to the Dollar Tree and I would have thanked her that much. Plus, I’ve gotta make a good impression with my grandma-in-law. Not all of us have telenovelas to bond over.”  
  
“Grandma Susanna  _adores_  you. Also, I’m glad it wasn’t to the Dollar Tree, all we ever end up buying there is chocolate, and we still have like five-hundred Mounds bars left.”  
  
“That is true.” Santana laughs, pulling Brittany in for a kiss. “C'mon, wifey, let’s get our shop on.”  
  
Contrary to what the temperature in their apartment would have them believe, it’s actually a gorgeous evening, and clasped hands swinging between them, they make their way up to Bed, Bath and Beyond, their ridiculously large gift card in Santana’s wallet. When they walked into the store, Brittany can’t help herself, she just has to laugh at how cute and domestic Santana is being, asking Brittany’s opinions on new towel colors and shower curtains, checking the thread count on sheets, being probably more adorable than Brittany has ever seen her be when she stacks throw pillows to match the comforter set they’ve finally settled on. But she has to admit, she shares in Santana’s enthusiasm, this is their first home, their first true marital bed, after all, and there’s something really, really special about deciding on a classic floral comforter, rather than a trendy chevron, something that just wells up inside of her, when they decide to buy the best sheets they can find. It’s after they end up with a small air conditioner, multi-colored glasses, and, somehow a probably unnecessary panini maker in their cart (something Brittany had really wanted when they made their wedding registry, but that no one had bought) that they figure it’s time to finally end their shopping trip.   
  
With their cart piled high, throw rugs and bathmats rolled beneath, they head up to the register and set up for next day delivery on everything but the bedding and towels. They’re both giddy, sort of sneaking kisses to each other as they put Grandma Susanna’s gift card to good use (and swipe Brittany’s credit card for the rest, since apparently they got a  _little_  carried away, and linens are  _way_  more expensive than they thought) and when they’re finished paying, each of them sling a reusable bag over their shoulder and start their walk back downtown. They’re just about home, when they pass the NYU bookstore, and Santana has the cab pull over, figuring maybe they should grab their textbooks while they’re out, one less thing to do in the chaos trying to make their little apartment a home before classes start, and she slides out first, offering Brittany a hand.  
  
Inside, they split up, Brittany heading to the math section, and Santana covering a wide range of subjects. When they finally meet up again, Santana has a basket full of textbooks, novels for her literature class, and two sweatshirts, one in grey and one in purple, on top of what she needs for school. Brittany eyes them both, before reaching into the basket and pulling out the one that reads Courant School of Mathematics.   
  
“Why do I have a feeling this one is going to end up more often on you than on me?” She asks, skin warming as she pictures her wife, proud of her as ever, wearing her sweatshirt.  
  
“I absolutely never steal your clothes.” Santana feigns offense, and Brittany moves closer, tugging on the hem of her tank top.  
  
“I think, Mrs. Pierce-Lopez, that you’re lying to me.”  
  
“Well, maybe  _just_  a little fib.” She laughs, knowing that she’s wearing Brittany’s shirt as she speaks. “ _But,_  I might have gotten mine in a bigger size, you know, in case yours miraculously goes missing.”  
  
“I guess I can’t complain about that then.” Brittany shrugs, kissing the corner of Santana’s mouth. “Keep these ideas up and you’ll out-genius me.”  
  
“I’m pretty sure that’s absolutely impossible, babe, even if I  _do_  wear your genius math school sweatshirt.”  
  
After paying at the bookstore, they decide they’d rather have takeout than go out for dinner (and they’ve reached the point where Brittany’s stomach is actually growling, and Santana’s glad they shared a bag of pita chips while they were shopping in Bed, Bath and Beyond), and Santana calls to order food while Brittany runs into the liquor store, wanting a good bottle of champagne for their first night in their new home. They just manage to beat the delivery guy back to the apartment, and he comes bearing sushi and cheesecake. Tossing their shopping bags aside, Brittany opens up the food containers while Santana goes to the kitchen to get the champagne flutes from their wedding, one of the first things they’d unpacked, neither of them wanting them to get broken. When the cork is popped, the champagne is poured, and each have a set of chopsticks in hand, they flip back on the couch, legs tangled together and the food spread out on the coffee table. It’s simple, it’s something they’ve done together hundreds of times, but it also feels new, and perfect, and just, everything.  
  
“Here’s to our new apartment, our new year of school, and to Grandma Susanna, for buying us some pretty awesome sheets.” Santana lifts her glass and Brittany raises her eyebrow.  
  
“We’re just going to go ahead and say that the sheets are what  _our_  money paid for, okay San? Because seriously, if I think about my grandma being involved in  _any_  way, I’m totally not going to be able to do what I want to do to you on them tonight.”  
  
“Okay.” Santana giggles, clinking her glass with Brittany’s and sipping her champagne. “I can totally be in agreement on that one. Wouldn’t want anything to compromise full use of our new bed.”  
  
“And  _that,_  my sexy wife, is one of the many reasons that I love you.”  
  
“As do I, Britt, as do I.” She winks. “God, speaking of our bed, moving is fucking exhausting. I really just want to eat, shower, and get into it with you. No more unpacking tonight.”  
  
“Sounds like a plan to me- except, wait, hold on.”   
  
Brittany jumps up from the couch, and Santana’s eyes follow her to where she reaches for a hammer and leans over the TV, measuring, Santana knows, with her naked eye, something only Brittany is capable of. When she’s satisfied with her measurement, Brittany presses a small nail to the wall, and with three swift knocks of the hammer, she’s got it mostly in the wall, sticking out just enough for Santana to figure out why she’s done it. With a grin in her wife’s direction, Brittany leans down to lift the heavy frame at her feet, and she sets it over the nail, standing back to admire her work, standing back to admire where their very first picture taken as a married couple adorns the wall, one that their photographer had managed to capture of them mid-kiss, goofy grins not even hidden by hands on each other’s faces. Nodding approval of her own work, Brittany moves back to the couch, and the moment she does, Santana snuggles into her side, kissing the underside of Brittany’s chin.  
  
“There,  _now_  we can be done unpacking for the night.” Brittany confirms. “It didn’t feel right to spend our first night here without the best of our wedding pictures up in the wall.”  
  
“You’re absolutely right on that one, Brittany. Now it really feels like it’s our place.”  
  
“Yeah.” She beams at Santana, thinking that Santana curled into her the way she is  _also_  makes it really feel like it’s there place, especially after most of their time in the apartment so far has been the two of them in different rooms, trying to get as much work done in as little time. “It definitely does.”


End file.
